


Blinded By The Light

by jamaillith



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1895913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamaillith/pseuds/jamaillith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott Summers visits Tony. They find they have a few things in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinded By The Light

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written circa 2009 or something, so don't expect it to make sense with current MCU.

'So, you're here because..'

'Nick Fury sent me.'

Tony Stark considered the level of scotch in his glass which, these days, was always too little, especially when dealing with anything connected to the words 'Nick' and 'Fury'.

'Right,' he said.

Scott Summers picked up a tangle of wire and scrap from one of the worktables and examined it absently.

'And you're a.. what? Mutant?'

'That's correct.' Scott placed the scrap back on the table exactly where he found it, and turned to face Tony. He was a tall drink of water in designer jeans, a leather motorcycle jacket and custom-made shades that Tony was starting to think did a lot more than keep out the sun. He clasped his hands behind his back, and there was something about his posture that suggested a militarial upbringing.

'You don't look very,' Tony gestured at him with his glass, making the ice swirl and click against the sides, 'mutant-like.'

'We don't all have tentacles and green skin, sir.'

Tony raised his eyebrows.

''Sir'?'

Scott smiled, a quirk of his pretty mouth that more than made up for the fact that Tony couldn't see his eyes.

'Sorry. Force of habit. You worked on the Lockheed program.' He didn't duck his head, but Tony got the impression that he would've done, once upon a time. 'You might say I'm something of a fan.'

'Lockheed, huh?' Tony swallowed the last of the scotch, even though it was mostly ice-water by now.

'We've got an SR-71 Blackbird in our hangar at home.'

Tony grunted. 'Good choice.'

'Yeah. She handles like a dream,' Scott replied, and there was an indulgent, almost loving, note to his voice that Tony more than recognised. Now it was his turn to smile, and he slid off of the metal stool he'd been sitting on; pushed his glass onto the nearest table.

'Come on,' he said, 'I want to show you something.'

 

-

 

'She's gorgeous. May I?' Scott gestured at the car. Tony, hands in the pockets of his sweats, grinned.

'Go ahead, boy scout. Get your hands dirty.'

Scott smiled and walked over to the Cobra, which was now fully recovered from the batterings it took in the test stages of the Mark III and parked at a considerate distance from the hole in the roof. He stood in front of it for a moment, head tilted slightly to one side, then started walking around it, taking his time, drinking in the details.

'I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid,' he said. 'This is beautiful work.'

'I do my best,' Tony replied, still grinning.

Scott paused, peering into the interior. '428 engine?'

'427. 425 horsepower. You should hear her take corners.'

Scott gave a low whistle, then glanced back up at Tony and grinned, and in that grin it was easy to see the boy he'd been, the boy who wasn't nervous but careful, contained, the kind of boy who loved cars and planes becuase they were beautiful and solid and dependable as little else in his life was. Tony wondered if growing up mutant was as hard as growing up without a father, and whether the two could really be equated.

Scott reached the front of the car again. Put out a hand to touch the stripes on the hood.

'So,' Tony began, coming over to stand beside him, 'you do this often?'

Scott turned his head a little, and Tony took that to mean he was glancing sideways at him.

'Do what?'

'Run errands for Nick Fury.'

Seriousness returned to Scott's expression like water running into a dry riverbed.

'When he asks me to,' he said.

'Yeah,' Tony replied, 'I'm starting to hear that a lot.'

Scott didn't offer a response to that and they stood there for a moment, together, looking at the Cobra.

Tony broke the silence.

'Glad you did, though.' He cleared his throat. 'Come here, I mean.'

Tony glanced round to see Scott still looking at the car. He watched the shift of muscles in Scott's jaw as he swallowed.

'You are?'

'Yeah.'

Scott turned to look at him. Tony met his eyes- or the point where he supposed his eyes to be- and found himself staring at his own reflection, small and warped on the surface of Scott's shades.

'You ever take those off?'

'I can't.'

'You can't?'

'I can't.'

Tony took a slow step forward, swaying into him until he could smell his aftershave and the leather of his jacket. 'Not even in bed?'

And now Scott did duck his head, just a little. He didn't back off, though.

'I haven't.. done anything like that. For a while.'

If he'd been wearing a shirt with buttons, Tony would've been reaching up, playing with them, unbuttoning them one by one, starting at the throat and working his way down, making his intentions as clear as the slow heat beginning to unfurl in his belly. But Scott was wearing one of those fake vintage rock t-shirts, so Tony kept his hands at his sides and watched Scott's tongue dart out to wet his lower lip.

'Think you can remember how?'

Scott raised his head and looked at him, looked right at him, Tony was sure of that. For a moment that was all it was- Scott looking at Tony and Tony looking back, looking at his own face in Scott's sunglasses. And then something like a smile flashed across Scott's expression and he was meeting Tony halfway, kissing him harder, with more hunger than Tony would ever have expected from a guy who probably ironed his jockeys.

Scott tasted like road-dust and peppermint gum, and he groaned against Tony's mouth when Tony pushed his hands up under his jacket, running his palms up and down Scott's sides and then across his back. He grabbed at Tony's shoulder like he was trying to hold himself up, his other hand darting over Tony's hip, and pushed into him, forcing him back until Tony felt the front bumper of the Cobra dig into the backs of his knees.

Tony pulled back from the kiss.

'You really haven't done this for a while,' he observed, panting a little.

Scott responded by kissing him again, the hand on Tony's hip sliding around to his ass, kneading it through the fabric and Tony decided he was damn glad he had decided to forgo underwear today. Scott shifted against him, moving his hips so Tony felt the bulge of his erection rubbing over his own.

'Fu-uuk,' he breathed against Scott's mouth, responding in kind, and then Scott was leaning against him again, more insistently this time, and Tony had no choice but to lower himself down onto the sloping hood of the Cobra, pulling himself up and spreading his legs at the same time so Scott could push against him in a way that was more profitable for them both and oh, damn, that was good, that was so good-

Then Scott was pulling away, pulling back. Tony, breathing hard, the front of his sweats tented and damp, half-propped over the hood of his car like some cheerleader in a porn movie, looked at him incredulously.

'Hey- what are you-'

Scott was shouldering off his jacket, head down like he was deep in concentration. Then he lowered himself to the concrete in front of the car and Tony understood what was going on.

'You sure about this?'

Scott looked up at him.

'I want..' he paused, licked his lips, 'to blow you.' The tone of his voice brokered no argument, and Tony wasn't about to give him one. He shifted on the hood, making himself comfortable.

'What happened to 'sir'?'

Scott studied him for a moment, his expression as opaque as his shades, then the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

'I want to blow you, sir.'

Tony grinned. 'Much better. Carry on.'

He raised his hips a little so Scott could tug down his sweats and made a mental note to give the car a wipe-down afterwards because he'd had to explain ass-prints on the paintwork to Pepper before but never ones that were so immediately recognisable.

Then Scott's mouth was on him- or, more accurately, his tongue, lapping at his cock like it was a Tootsie Pop or some fucked-up shit like that, sending white thrills of pleasure curling up Tony's spine and this wasn't how he'd pictured spending his afternoon, being sucked off by a mutant, X-Man, whatever, but he could definitely think of worse ways.

'Mmmm,' he purred, 'that's it, yeah.'

And, hey, he was pretty good, actually. Definitely wasn't his first time sucking cock, that much was abundantly clear. Tony reached out to run his fingers through Scott's hair, cup the back of his skull in his palm, maybe encourage him to get on with things a little. Scott seemed to get the hint and the sight of those pretty lips parting for him almost drove Tony over the edge right then and there. He tilted his head back and caught sight of the security camera trained on the cars. Some judicious editing of the security feed would be in order, obviously, once Scott was gone, wouldn't do to have Pepper stumble upon the sight of her boss in such a compromising position. Again.

Unless, you know, she liked that kind of thing.

He'd keep the footage, obviously- except, would that be considered narcissistic? Nah, it wasn't like-

'Jesus- oh, fuck, kid, oh, fuck-'

All rational thought was driven abruptly from his head because Scott, this straight-backed square-shouldered sonofabitch with the clip of East Coast money in his voice- this guy who hadn't been laid for god only knew how long- was deep-throating him like a pro, tongue working, all that, and, Jesus, it was all Tony could do to keep from coming at the thought of it and drowning the poor bastard. Instead he gripped the swollen bulges of the Cobra's headlamps with hungry fingers and groaned.

'You.. you sure have hidden depths ki- ah, ah, yeah, there- ah, fuck, ah, fuck-'

Then Scott's teeth scraped against his cock and that was it, that was it right there, and Tony was falling and flying at the same time, yelling out as the orgasm ripped through him, arching his back and sending shudders down his whole body and Scott was swallowing, his head bobbing as he sucked and licked until Tony put a hand on his head and said 'that's enough'.

Carefully, Scott pulled back, and looked up at him, his cheeks flushed, his lips and chin shining wetly.

'That,' Tony said, rather breathlessly, 'was not the first time you've done.. that.'

Scott stood up slowly, impeded somewhat by the bulge in his jeans. He wiped the back of his wrist across his mouth, then looked at it for a moment, as if trying to remember what he'd done.

'I'm full of surprises,' he said, eventually.

'You sure are,' Tony agreed. He nodded at Scott's crotch. 'C'mon, scout, your turn. I am nothing if not a man who returns his favours. Be good and you'll even get interest.'

'That's not what Fury says,' Scott pointed out, moving back to allow Tony to slide down off the hood. Tony eyed him as he tugged his sweatpants back up, trying to work out whether or not he was joking. The sunglasses made it hard to tell.

'The bit about the interest or the bit about the favours?'

'The favours.'

Tony made a dismissive noise. 'Fury can stick that cigar of his up his ass and spin on it for all I care. Now, do you want me to make you come screaming my name or not?'

'From what I heard,' Scott pointed out, moving around to lean his butt against the headlamp of the Cobra, one hand working to undo his belt, 'you're the one doing all the screaming.'

Tony raised an eyebrow at him.

'Are you always this suddenly talkative when you're being fucked?'

'I dunno,' a slow smile eased its way onto his face, and Tony wondered what had happened that made it seem so rare an expression, 'why don't you try shutting me up?'

Tony grinned.

'That,' he said, moving to kneel at Scott's feet, 'I can do.'

Scott tasted like salt, base metals, minerals, and he put his hands on Tony's head, a cocksucker's benediction, whilst Tony toyed with him, taking his time, making him grunt curses and moan and gasp as he licked his way up and down his shaft. The floor was hard and cold under Tony's knees and he planted one hand either side of Scott's thighs, palms spread flat over the smooth surface of the Cobra's front. Scott rocked himself in and out of Tony's mouth, one hand always on the back of Tony's skull, and shivered like a felled tree when Tony reached up to roll his balls over his palm. He didn't yell Tony's name when he orgasmed, but a name Tony didn't know: 'Jean,' cut in two by a shuddering breath that could've been a sob. When he was done, Tony turned his head and spat onto the concrete, figuring that Scott wouldn't mind too much either way.

'Jesus,' Scott muttered thickly, stroking his hand over Tony's hair.

'Not quite,' Tony replied, pushing himself up, 'I hear Jesus swallowed.'

Scott looked at him for a moment, his chest rising and falling with his breathing, then leaned forward and kissed him, his tongue swiping across Tony's lips and then, and then, oh god, when Tony began to respond in kind, licking his own come from inside Tony's mouth. A refreshed stab of lust arrowed into Tony's gut and he growled against Scott's lips, fingering the hem of Scott's t-shirt, brushing his knuckles over the skin beneath.

Scott pulled away first but he didn't go far, his breath hot against Tony's skin.

'Thank you,' he said, barely a whisper, and Tony didn't know what he'd done to deserve the man's gratitude, didn't want to know because that would mean getting involved and he was only just getting used to that, getting involved, but it felt like the right thing to do when he reached up and put a hand on his shoulder.

'Come on, boy scout,' he said, stepping back a little, 'I'll make us some coffee.'


End file.
